


A Bit Not Good

by a-cumberbatch-of-cookies (tishy19)



Series: PWP at 221b [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, the great outdoors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-04
Updated: 2012-12-04
Packaged: 2017-11-20 08:10:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/583160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tishy19/pseuds/a-cumberbatch-of-cookies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock drags a clueless John through the woods as night falls.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Bit Not Good

**Author's Note:**

> Written for pandabob1 for the 2012 Johnlock Gift Exchange! The prompt I received was "the great outdoors." I hope you like it, darling!

“Sherlock, are you sure we’re allowed to be here?” John asked. He moved to step over another fallen birch, its jagged and broken branches rising up like claws. Trying to keep an eye on Sherlock, John barely noticed as his toe caught on one of the larger branches for the briefest moment before clearing the hurdle. Through the trees the setting sun ushered dusk in at an alarming pace, long shadows falling across their path, darkening the forest quickly. Ahead of him, John could just make out the lanky frame of his partner.

Sherlock paused next to an old pine tree, his hand resting on the rough bark as he surveyed his surroundings. He picked a small piece of moss from the tree. Pinched between two fingers, he brought it up to his face, first studying then sniffing the small green speck. “Of course, John,” Sherlock replied as he flicked the moss away and moved on to scanning the ground around him.

“Yes, well. I only ask because of the numerous signs we’ve passed stating otherwise.”

“Really, John,” Sherlock smirked. He turned to face the doctor, his coat swirling out slightly around his legs. “When did we start paying attention to signs?”

“Oi, I’ve always paid attention to signs! It’s getting you to stop and listen to me that’s the problem.” John finally stepped up to Sherlock’s side. “And you still haven’t told me what it is we’re doing out here.”

With a roll of his eyes, Sherlock set off again over the dead leaves and dirty ground, the crunch of his steps cutting through the silence of the forest. His gaze continued to dart between the different trees and shrubs, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his coat. 

“At least tell me what case this is for, “John muttered as he did his best to keep pace with the detective.

“Cases.”

“Sorry, what?”

“Cases, John,” Sherlock sighed loudly. “The data I collect here will be of the utmost importance to multiple cases, old and new.”

John’s eyebrow lifted in interest. “Oh. Well then.”

The two continued through the forest in an almost peaceful silence for a few minutes. The sun had finally settled behind the horizon, a few stars already beginning to dot the night sky above. John looked up, a small smile splayed across his face, but he quickly paid for his inattention as he suddenly caught his foot on a root and tripped full on this time, landing with a ‘humph,’ on his hands and knees.

“For fuck’s sake,” John groaned as he picked himself back up, brushing debris off his jeans. “Sherlock, this is insane. We’re in the middle of the bloody woods, it’s getting so dark I can barely see anyth-“

John was cut off by a bright light flicking to life before him. He quickly shielded his eyes and ducked his head. With a small smirk, Sherlock spun the torch around and placed it in John’s hand. As the spots cleared from his vision, John heard the click of another torch coming to life and the crunch of leaves; Sherlock starting on his way again. John stood still, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.

“Jesus, Sherlock…”

After a moment, John’s night vision settled and he pointed his torch out into the woods. John squinted and he could just make out Sherlock’s coat through the trees and started after him. John's grasp on the torch tightened as he slowly swung the beam of light back and forth over the ground, just illuminating the toe of his boots. He kept his eyes mostly on the ground, every so often glancing up to settle on the dark Sherlock’s dark shape.

After spending all day in the car, driving out in to the middle of nowhere, passing acres and acres of forest, Sherlock had pulled off to the side of the road and announced the rest of the trip would be on foot. Thinking they were just on the hunt for some rare fungus or mushroom, John assumed it would be a quick trip into the woods and had left all survival supplies in the car. 

Now, after a few hours of impromptu hiking, they continued through the maze of trees and fallen logs. The likelihood of the two men making it to wherever Sherlock was leading them, taking care of whatever business needed to be done and returning to the car before sunrise was looking bleak. It wouldn't be the first time Sherlock had kept John up throughout the night, but normally those plans involved a soft bed and a lot less clothing.

A goofy grin passed over John's face as the memory of their last all-nighter played in his head. Returning to the flat after a mad dash around some of London's dodgiest alleys in pursuit of an arsonist found the two men at first gasping from a lack of breath to a few moments later gasping for an entirely different reason.

John's grin faded slowly as he trudged through the woods and a curious smell came to his attention. It was faint, just barely detectable on the cool breeze of the night winds, but something about it seemed familiar. He lifted the beam of his torch up off the ground and looked around, taking in another deep breath. His eyes narrowed in concentration, and just as he opened his mouth to shout for Sherlock he walked right into the consulting detective with a 'humph.' John lost his grip on the torch and it dropped to the ground, the top popping off and batteries springing out.

John took a step back, doing his best to glare at Sherlock in the dark. "Some kind of warning would be nice, Sherlock," he grumbled as he stooped to find the torch. The small amount of moonlight disappeared as clouds moved overhead causing John to sigh in frustration. Could this night get any worse?

"John!" Sherlock cried, turning quickly. John felt Sherlock's long coat ghost across his arm, followed by a strong hand wrapping around his upper arm, dragging him back up straight.

"Oi! Easy Sherlock. We're going to need the lig-" John tried to protest.

"Leave it be." Sherlock's light was directed over John's right shoulder, along with the detective's gaze.

A sudden breeze brought that odd scent to John again causing him to wrinkle his nose. It was stronger now and the pungent odor felt even more familiar.

"Sherlock, do you smel-"

But John's question was cut off as the lanky detective took a few steps forward, stepping right up to John and propelling him backwards. John shuffled back quickly until his back thumped against a tree trunk, a few pieces of bark tumbling down the back of John’s neck. "Hey!" John was momentarily pinned, and tried to sidestep away from Sherlock, but John wasn't quick enough. Sherlock nudged a leg between John's, his knee coming to rest against the tree, leaving John to straddle Sherlock's thigh.

"Sherlock!" John hissed as his hands flew up and gripped Sherlock's shoulders, trying to keep his balance as he pivoted up on his toes. His outrage at the situation came to an abrupt halt as a long-fingered hand came to rest on his groin. 

"Sh-Sherlock, what are you doing?!" John stammered. His hands slide down Sherlock’s arms, fingers curling in the dark wool of his coat. He tried to steady himself, fighting, and losing, against the onslaught of sensations.

A soft chuckle rumbled from Sherlock's chest as he pressed himself closer to John. His eyes crinkled with a smirk as he moved his palm achingly slow against John's crotch. "Should be a bit obvious, even for you John..." Sherlock trailed off. John made a grunt of annoyance, but it was quickly forgotten as a wolfish smile appeared on Sherlock's face in a flash and John watched as he, oh so deliberately, ran his tongue across the top row of his teeth.

John’s audible gulp was not missed. "Please tell me you didn't drag me out into the middle of the woods to just have it off?"

"Of course not, John," Sherlock smiled, his eyes flashing with mischief. He leaned in towards John, his lips ghosting over the other man's ear briefly. "But when the opportunity presents itself..." With his last words, Sherlock closed the gap between his lips and John's ear and started sucking on the lobe. 

John moaned loudly, one hand moving up to sink into Sherlock's dark curls. His other hand slide down and settled on the detective's hip, fingers clenching his belt. John closed his eyes and tilted his head to the side, giving Sherlock more room as he moved from John's ear to his neck. John's cock was fully hard, his jeans beginning to feel uncomfortably tight. His hips gave small, stuttered thrusts against Sherlock's hand.

Sherlock pulled back from John's neck, his lips red and wet. John turned back and his mouth was quickly claimed by Sherlock, soft lips pressing firmly to his own, Sherlock’s tongue licking into John's mouth slowly. John’s fingers twisted in the dark curls, pulling Sherlock’s head slightly to the side, deepening the kiss. John let out a breathy moan into Sherlock’s mouth as the hand not currently turning John’s knees to jelly curved over his neck; thumb idly rubbing below his jaw line.

John couldn’t keep his eyes from popping open as the unmistakable sound of a zipper cut through the air. With a quick flick, Sherlock had the buttons undone as well, his hand sliding down between the layers to continue rubbing, his hand now feeling the heat radiating from John’s pleasure.

John’s eyes, if possible, widened even more. He swallowed thickly and fidgeted, the small movement of his hips telling a very different story than his words. “Oh God, Sherlock, we really can’t-“  


“I believe we can, John.” Sherlock brought their mouths together again, sucking first on John’s tongue, then pulling off slowly to nip at his bottom lip. Sherlock’s hand stopped rubbing, but his thumb trailed back and forth over the head of John’s cock, sliding over the slick patch of pre-come that bled through. “Stop worrying.”  


Without another word, Sherlock dropped down, his knees sinking slightly into the soft dirt. After dropping his torch to his right, he pulled on John’s jeans until they settled around his knees, finally revealing a pair of red pants, tented obscenely by John’s erection. Hands on both hips, Sherlock mouthed gently over the bulge, his warm breath replaced quickly with the intense heat of his lips and tongue.  


John watched it all, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to keep from hyperventilating. The sight was almost too much, that crop of messy curls pushed back from Sherlock’s forehead, revealing a pair of dark eyes that looked up at him. John carded his fingers through Sherlock’s silky locks, eyes drifting close, heavy with lust. The slow caress of Sherlock’s tongue on his shaft pulled a low moan from the back of John’s throat. “Oh love, you’re gorgeous.”  


Sherlock hooked his thumbs over the waistband of John’s pants and tugged them down to join his jeans. John sucked in a sharp breath as the night’s cool air suddenly came into contact his sensitive skin, but Sherlock’s mouth appeared again, engulfing John’s cock with moist heat.  


John’s head tilted back, knocking against the tree softly. The dull pain was nothing compared to the pleasure Sherlock was giving him. All other thoughts left him as Sherlock circled his tongue over the head of John’s cock. Pulling off for a moment, Sherlock canted his head to the side and focus on John’s balls, the smell of musk and sweat thick from their long hike. Sherlock sucked on one and then the other before flattening his tongue against the underside of the shaft and sliding up slowly. When he got to the tip again, he formed a tight circle and bobbed his head.  


John’s hips bucked without his control, a soft “Jesus” slipping over his lips. His right hand was now twisted in Sherlock’s hair, not pulling or tugging, just using the feel of those soft curls to tether himself in the moment. John’s other hand was clenched into fist at his side, knuckles turning white from strain.  


While still moving on John’s cock, Sherlock gently grabbed both of John’s hands and pushed them back between John’s lower back and the tree. The rough bark scrapped at their hands, but neither man cared. John finally gave over to his bodies desires and moved his hips in short thrusts, feeling the smooth glide over Sherlock’s tongue, the soft pressure of his lips.  


John’s orgasm neared, soft mumbling of love and devotion tumbled from his lips. His head rolled on his neck, his eyes opening to the dark forest. He felt the crest of his climax reaching its peak, and just as the wave of pleasure swept over him, he watched as the moonlight reappeared, illuminating the trees and grounds surrounding them. With gasp, John came, his muscles tensed and his legs quivered, and his vision narrowed to a spot a few dozen meters away.  


That’s when he saw it and suddenly the smell from earlier came back tenfold.  


For a second time, John let his head fall back against the tree at his back. He waited a few moments with his eyes closed, feeling his body relax after his orgasm, his knees still a little wobbly. Below, Sherlock gave John’s softening cock a few last lazy licks before gently pulling up John’s pants and trousers.  


With his hands now free, John brought them up and ran them over his face. “Sherlock?” he asked quietly, the smallest flame of annoyance already sparking to life to overcome the feeling of contentment from his orgasm.  


Sherlock’s hands froze where they were just finished buttoning up John’s jeans. Sherlock’s gaze snapped up to his partner’s face and picking up his torch, he very slowly rose from the ground, his eyes never leaving John. “Yes, John?”  


“Sherlock, please don’t tell me where I think we are.”  


“…”  


“Sherlock?”  


“…”  


John finally dropped his hands from his face and stared at his lover. “We’re in Nottingham, aren’t we?”  


Sherlock gave a small nod, then turned his head away quickly, suddenly very interested in a large oak tree to his right.  


“Nottingham Trent Uni is the one that just opened up a new body farm for their students, isn’t it?”  


Sherlock cleared his throat. “I believe so, yes.”  


“You belie-“ John started, but his words became jumbled with his rising anger. “Sherlock, I can see the bodies from here!”  


“…”  


“Did you just get me off while surrounded by decomposing bodies in hopes of distracting me?!”  


“…”  


“Well?”  


Sherlock grimaced and finally met John’s stare again. “Bit not good?” he asked sheepishly.  


“Sherlock,” John fumed, “this is the epitome of ‘a bit not good.’”  


Sherlock’s eyes narrowed for a second, and then he gave a small nod of his head. “Noted.” With that, he turned and directed his torch’s beam onto the closest pile of remains. “Now, come along John. As dull as these university students and professors are, they’ll never notice that a few teeth and fingers have gone missing.”


End file.
